Crossings
by Crystal Silvera
Summary: If you've always felt invisible, how do you deal with going up against the Lone Power and the vastness of the rest of the universes? How do you know your wizardry, your strikes at entropy, will make any difference at all—after you've done everything you can to be noticed, and it all failed? But maybe one wizard is all it takes to make worlds of difference . . . (Long) one-shot.


**So. I stayed up writing to finish this as a nice, _new_ fanfic for a nice, new 2014! Happy New Year's to anyone who may be reading this at who knows when right before/after that special twelve-o'clock! :) Well, where I live, it _just_ hit twelve-or-so and fireworks are going off like crazy outside. A very pleasant background noise . . . **

**(Quite new to this fandom, actually—well, Internet-wise, anyway. . . . Though I must say I'm becoming quite active in tromping through ancient YW forum posts and DD's various websites. Oh, and, please try to bear with me; this is my first YW fic!)**

**_Crossings _**

* * *

**I.**_ Fairest . . ._

* * *

_Just how small am I? _

I had always known that I wasn't much. Only one person, one person against . . . everything and everyone else. My existence was almost nonexistent. My discovery of wizardry hadn't helped that tiny feeling, the sense that I was one against countless others in countless different places. I even felt that among my own _family_.

But even I hadn't prepared for the knowledge of endless galaxies, infinite alternate universes that sprung into being from different timelines. Who can? It was overwhelming and too much to comprehend all at once.

"Your efforts won't make any difference," whispered the voice, drifting at the edge of my hearing. "You're one little wizard against the most ancient, most powerful Power, the unstoppable death. A Power who had risen long before this universe had, a Power almost incomprehensible in these worlds. One wizard can't do anything to stop _that_, then, can he?"

I'd been warned about this. I knew it, but the Lone One's voice was— It was just so reasonable. So _sincere_.

I couldn't have prepared for it. Maybe no one could prepare for Its persuasive, reasonable, sincere voice, and maybe that's why not everyone survived their Ordeal . . .

"Just give up," It continued. "Give up, let this all go. Let it all drift away so you can be _free_! . . . This was one Ordeal too hard for you, one Ordeal too much, and one that only takes a drop from the mighty sea that pounds relentlessly against the shore . . ."

"How many drops will it take, then?" I retorted, finally finding my voice. "How many drops until the ocean is dry? I know entropy can't be defeated, but even that isn't forever!"

The Lone One's voice sighed as though It were a teacher trying to explain a simple math problem to me and I just wasn't paying attention. "Oh, no. Nothing can ever be forever, _especially_ not your universe. Perhaps not even the Powers, or Timeheart. But what use will it be, making your universe last longer? More life will rise, only to be destroyed, razed flat, annihilated._ Dead._" It spared me a dry, harsh laugh.

_"All of it."_

It paused, and to my horror Its human form appeared in front of me, calm and almost open. "You see, the one thing wizards never understood was that they can't make any real difference," It said, spreading Its hands. "They never understood that their healing this today will die in old age, their fixing this problem will appear again a year later. They never understood it was the same with trying to slow down entropy: that it would keep going, that death would come anyway." It sighed and met my eyes, Its restrained power leaping like flames behind Its gaze.

"They never understood_ it was no use._"

The wizardry I'd prepared for the encounter was gone now, lost in my raging thoughts. How often had I thought the exact same thing? How often had I wondered if my efforts, my help, anything I did ever mattered if no one even noticed it, especially those who were supposed to be the "closest" to me? _And especially my parents. My parents, who always overlooked me . . . _

"It _would_ be easy to let go, wouldn't it?" I asked abruptly, my voice loud and sudden. "It would be easy to just—_go_, and let the world be the world even though it's been messed up and you could've fixed it, and hide yourself away when you didn't want to change anything because you were _weak_." _Because I've always wanted to do that too, to just disappear and give up, because I never did make any difference no matter how I tried—! _

But . . . no. I won't give in, not here, not when I felt so close to triumph. "I'll tell you this, Fairest and Fallen: I am _nothing like You!_"

The Lone One's friendly demeanor vanished—at least, as friendly as _It_ can get—and It watched me, still calm but now wary and dangerous. "You say you're nothing like Me," It said quietly. "Then explain the helplessness. Explain the _hopelessness_ of it all!"

Its tone caught me by surprise. Was this a new side of the Lone Power I was seeing, one that wasn't ever seen by anyone else? Did I reach some part of It that still cared for life, that still wondered what It could have invented instead of Death?

"I can't explain it," I said, just as quietly. "Because You've got to find out for Yourself, like everyone else does sometime along life."

And then, in a rush, the spell came back to me, a living torrent of words and power. I don't know how, or why, or any factor of the reason it did. All I know is that I said the words in the Speech that would drain the power, the life out of the living beings around it and raise the life again, somewhere else barren of it, undoing what the Lone One did, undoing Its doings in eternal defiance—

_"And if You'll turn against Your own word, so will I!"_

The _right_ spell, the one that I knew was the only solution—but also the one that would . . . that would . . .

_But I _knew . . . _And I still created it . . ._

_. . ._

. . . _Where am I?_

Nothing. There's nothing. . . .

. . .

_Nothing. . . ._

* * *

**II.**_ . . . and Fallen, . . .  
_

* * *

Everyone thought I had vanished. Everyone except the other wizards, who knew what had really happened.

After all, the Lone Power was right in a sense. I was only one person, just another one of the fallen. But I was one of the fallen that had done something, however small, and halted the creator of Death in Its tracks for whatever the equivalent of a year is to the rest of the universes.

_Your Ordeal was a success. Just . . . not at the price We had hoped for. But We do thank you, as sincerely as We can through this medium of communication, and We hope we may cross paths in Timeheart._

I sigh at the glowing words for the millionth time and close the manual. A lifetime ago—literally and figuratively—I'd felt too small, unappreciated, unnoticed, a desperate voice trying to rise above the others. Now I would rather be that again than . . . this.

_A "welcome to Timeheart" message . . . from the _Powers_._

_You should be grateful, _I remember my Advisory saying. _Timeheart, as well as saving about every sentient being in the galaxy? That's more than most wizards can say, whether they've passed their Ordeal or not. _

_I passed mine. And I don't feel that grateful. _I turn to my window, knowing it's aimless to stare at and long for the world I've left behind me, watching but still a world away.

So what if Timeheart was "better," or more "real," that place where everything becomes "more themselves" for eternity? I want Earth back, torturous homework and screaming parents included. Anything to be _alive_ again.

And what good is Timeheart, when it's my personal prison and there is no one else in it? I _know_ there have to be others—but something I'd done to myself in those last moments of my life, whatever had happened in my wizardry, had isolated me from the rest of Timeheart. All I can do is stay here, and . . . think.

Maybe I've done that for a few eternities too long during my stay here, but I think I understand something now. I understand that I was small—and still am—but made my own difference. I was _just another one of them_, but through my own unremarkable actions achieved something I never dreamed I could. I was invisible, and yet my absence—and presence—made all the difference in the world.

Yep. _Way_ too long.

I glance at the window, cursory at first and about to move on when I realize it looks like a . . . library. A bit dark, rather empty, but still a book-stuffed, quiet library. I focus on the scene and squint, trying to see why this particular image decided to show up.

Then I see the girl holding a book in her hands, staring at the cover with a bewildered, unbelieving expression on her face. I let my face tug into the faintest shadow of a smile and say, almost silently, _"Dai stiho." _

* * *

"Hello in there . . . Anyone home?"

I give a start and whirl around, the words of a defense spell immediately rushing to my mind. _Who in the name of the One would be able to get _here_?_

_"Who are you?"_

I didn't mean to sound so harsh or accusing, but no one's ever been able to reach my area in Timeheart before. _No one_, not a wizard or even an abdal. Only a Power can breach whatever holds me here, but this person certainly isn't a Power . . . But I still can't see them, and that unsettles me.

"None of your business," snaps the voice, making me take back my regret at snapping myself. "All I need to know is if you've seen—"

"No one ever sees me!" I yell back, that old frustration coming back again, stronger than it's been for a long time. "No one's ever been here, so you can just _leave_!"

The voice falls silent for a while, and I settle back, satisfied that whoever was somehow able to find me would go away. My hope was in vain.

"I don't like your tone, whoever you are," they reply drily, taking on the voice of an irritated mother. "So, I won't leave until you tell me _if you've seen_—"

"I told you already: I've never been seen by anyone, and never saw anyone. Not here, not anywhere . . . except where I died."

There's another pause, and something shifts in the shadows of the room and the speaker steps out. I almost start yelling again when I realize I've seen her before.

I don't know how many wizards I have witnessed accepting the Oath through my window, but I can tell she was one of them. The one I had thought to myself, _That looks like _me_ taking the Oath, _and knew would do something remarkable through her own Ordeal. Someone with more than enough power at their dispense.

She glares at me, the gray eyes more fierce than I'd thought. "Well, I'm looking straight at you right now, and I'll tell you _I_ can see you just fine." She folds her arms and says, after a short silence, "Were you on errantry?"

I think I know what she means, and it shocks me that she can be so blunt. "No. . . . Not really. It was on Ordeal."

"Ordeal?" A surprised look flickers across her face before it's covered again. "No_ way_. Don't tell me _you're_—"

"What _I'd_ like to know is how you got here," I say sharply, cutting through her realization. She makes a disdainful sound and rolls her eyes. "I'd like to know that too, but I think it was _Their_ doing."

_Isn't it always . . . _"Well, there's nothing for you here. Whoever you're looking for, I haven't seen them."

The look I get in response gives me a feeling that I've said the wrong thing. "So you haven't seen him, fine. But I have a feeling They didn't lead me here for no reason."

Silence.

Eventually she gives in and sighs, turning away and giving me one final food-for-thought statement: "Since this wasn't a coincidence, do let me know when you're let out of here. Don't think I didn't see that manual of yours. . . . And I'm pretty sure you're 'stuck' in Timeheart for a reason."

She starts to leave when it bursts out of me: "Wait!" She turns around. "Who _are_ you looking for, that you'd go into Timeheart?"

She scowls at me, and for some reason the expression finally makes her name click into my mind and suddenly everything makes sense. "No one _you_ would've seen."

And then she's gone.

_Nothing. _

Would I be surprised if that word was another invention of the Lone Power?

. . . Well, not anymore. Now I'm certain it is.

* * *

**III. **_. . . Greetings and Defiance!  
_

* * *

Another one.

It seems she was right. I _am_ here for a reason . . . Just not what I thought I was here for.

More and more come. If I weren't so lonely, I would be fearing for the future.

But most of all: I'm _seen_. They talk to me, include me, treat me like a real person with a heart and spirit. It's more than I ever asked for and I find myself thinking maybe being "stuck" here in Timeheart for eternity won't be so bad after all.

Before, I had always been the overlooked one, the one hidden by the two greater forces that clashed above me. It was that endless storm that raged right over my head that was my confinement, the reason I always thought myself invisible. Maybe the reason I even got to Timeheart.

Funny, how my prison turns out to be my escape. Or, at least, after I'd realized_ I_ was shutting myself away, that it was my own sentimentality and frustration and almost depression that was isolating me. But this—I hadn't ever dared dream anything even _close_ to this.

"'Cos you _didn't_ dream, duh!"

I turn away from the others and roll my eyes. "Still here and listening in on my thoughts?"

_Hey, old habits die hard. You should know. _

_Hmm. Point taken._ "So how are things back on Earth?" I ask aloud.

We were allies for a time, wizardly partners of a sort. We had an uncanny connection, even though we_ were_ related as somewhat distant cousins—never once did we have to use the manual for communication. And apparently, that connection lasted through to Timeheart . . .

Interesting. A "distant" cousin became even closer to me than my immediate family.

"Pretty crazy, as usual—the Invitational's coming up, after all. And you know the prize this year. Really, Irina's overdone herself."

"Not surprised." I pause and think on what I want to say, trying to put it into words. "Well, are you helping manage it this year?"

"'Course I am. Every time, whenever I can." She raises her eyebrows at me, widening her bright blue eyes almost mockingly. "Oh, great, what favor is it now? Don't ask me to try to get the Book for you again; that nearly got me killed, and my parents did _not_ appreciate it!"

I smirk at that and shrug. "Just another day in this line of work, right?" And before she has a chance to interrupt: "Anyway. Is there anyone in the records by the name of—"

Just as I thought she would, my cousin receives the name by thought before I say it. She gives me a surprised look and says, "What, you haven't heard about her yet? That one passed an Ordeal worth calling 'remarkable' at the very least. Quite a lot of that sheer power we haven't seen for a long time in a non-abdal wizard. And her_ sister_ . . . Yeesh."

"Back to the point, please— If you see her, could you just tell her she was right? And that I'm sorry for yelling, and she should come back because I just may have seen who she's looking for."

"Will do." I'm grateful, right at that moment, that my cousin is the stubborn, unquestioningly loyal person she is and not some nose-into-everyone's-business chattermouth. "And who should I tell her that this message is from?"

I think on that, recalling that turning blink in time when she appeared in my prison, about to snap at me the truths that set me free. In a way, I owe her everything.

"Tell her it was from the wizard she met in Timeheart, the one she crossed paths with." I pause, remembering that she did see my manual, and the complications that went with it. "And tell her the manual didn't work, maybe because—"

Someone new has arrived. I can feel it.

. . . And they're not the light-as-nothing souls that usually find their way into Timeheart. No. This one burns and radiates power.

They feel _familiar_.

"I _thought_ I heard someone talking about me," that brisk, insistent voice declares, its source striding towards us in triumph. "Still defying and denying there, Lance?"

I feel a grin creeping across my face. "Denying, not so much—thanks to you. Still looking for your friend?"

"That's why I'm here." The girl stops and folds her arms, a mirror of that long-ago stance she held when she first intruded. "Why?"

"Because, Dairine . . . I feel that this isn't the only fateful crossing that I've had."

* * *

**Yep, lots of references. Lots and lots and lots and lots . . . :D (But this is _me_ writing. References abound!)**

**So, what did you think? Awful (hopefully not!)? Amazing? In between? Any advice to offer? (As I feel I haven't done DD's excellent work any justice at all . . .) **

**Drop a review and do let me know! ^^ (Or Peach will appear, telling you you should _really_ start reading the fine print down here in A/N's . . .)**


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